


Under Your Breath

by kashinoha



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Footnotes, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, My language kink is showing, No shipping, Team as Family, Telepathic Shenanigans, gratuitous Spanish, happy birthday pidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 00:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10525260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashinoha/pseuds/kashinoha
Summary: It was a lot easier to take communication for granted with lower life forms.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It lives! I can't believe the last time I posted anything was six months ago. A lot of things have been happening in my life since my last fic: now I will be moving, starting a new job, all that exciting stuff. I probably won't be able to write too much once everything starts, but I really wanted to get some fics in before that. Getting back into writing was so hard—this took me a month to write! 
> 
> Anyways, I recently watched Voltron and thought it was an adorable series. I've had a lot of alien fiction ideas sitting around unused on my computer, and Voltron proved to be the perfect show to go all-out creative with the space stuff. Maybe a little too much so, but what can I say, I was having fun.
> 
> Wrote this to the song Felébredni egy Szerelemből by Péterfy Bori & Love Band.

 

**Under Your Breath  
**

All characters © Dreamworks

 

 

 

Pidge’s stellar attempts at not freaking out included a very dignified squawk and nearly slipping as she stepped out of the shower. All in all, not a great start to her day.

Regaining her footing, she growled something a great deal stronger than quiznak and glared at the three tiny red drops spattering the floor. It was obscene in the way that most bodily fluids were when they were, you know, _outside the body,_ with the added layer of embarrassment because it had to happen sometime or another.

Fourteen was late, but not unheard of.

“But in _space?”_ Pidge grumbled. She blew out her breath in a sigh. “Okay, no big deal,” she said. “I’ll just…ask…Allura.” Now _that_ was a conversation Pidge could imagine going well. _Hey Allura, how’s it hanging? So you know how human females regularly bleed from their reproductive organs? Ha, ha! Yeah, well, I was wondering if you had any—_

“On second thought, no.”

It was just her luck, really. The universe had reared back its colossal head and was (silently, of course, because space was a vacuum) laughing at her. She had woken up that morning feeling a little weird, but she hadn’t pieced it together until she’d looked down in the shower to see a milder version of _Carrie._ At least Pidge was better informed.

“Do Alteans even get…?” she muttered, reaching on tiptoe to open the cabinet above her fancy Altean toilet.1 Apparently not. In terms of feminine products there were only some oversized cotton balls and something that looked vaguely probe-y, so Pidge decided to go with the cotton balls. It was better than nothing. She stuffed a few into her underwear, hoping that it would do the trick, before getting dressed and toweling her hair somewhat dry.

Pidge could only hope that there was nothing planned for the day, but fortune seemed to favor…well, people not her at the moment. Sure enough, she was in the middle of wrestling into her shoes (she never bothered with laces) when Coran announced over the ship’s intercom that the Paladins were needed in the main console room. 2

Pidge grit her teeth and pretended that the dull throbbing in her midsection was the beat of a catchy tune. It didn't help, but it did manage to get We Will Rock You stuck in her head.

 

 

 

“So after we make a pit-stop at Folarra, we should arrive at Slecra-Madrellos in about thirty dobashes, give or take,” Coran finished.

For visiting a new planet, the five Paladins seemed less than thrilled. Pidge was probably the only one in the room who preferred galactic politics to dodging Galra cannons right now, but she tried to look appropriately dejected while the others voiced their complaints.  

“Yeah, but remind me again why we have to register?” Lance asked, making a face. “I thought that if you had a space ship you were, I dunno—“he waved his hand—“good to go, or something.”

“Don’t be silly, Lance,” said Allura. “One does not simply fly through the universe uncharted.”

Pidge and Hunk both snorted. “You shall not pass,” Pidge snickered. In response, Hunk whispered, “My precious.” Allura looked at them questioningly while beside her, Shiro only shook his head. 3

“All spacecraft needs both a permit and a registered license to fly,” Coran added. “Ours just happen to be ten thousand years out of date, so technically flying the Castle of Lions through this quadrosphere isn’t exactly, ah, _legal._ But not to worry! All we need to do is renew them with the Myrixian Council and we’ll be, as you say, good to go.”

“The Myrixians of Slecra-Madrellos are some of the most level-headed people in the universe,” Allura assured them. “We’ve always been in good standing with them.”

“So we won’t actually need Voltron for this trip,” Keith said, looking bored.

“As pilots and residents of this castle you still have to register with the Council,” replied Allura. Pidge shifted around her cotton balls and wondered if Slecra-Madrellos at least had comfy chairs.

“So they’re like the Space Police?” Hunk asked.

“Not exactly,” replied Coran. “They’re more like the Offices of Space Traffic Control. The most important thing to remember, though,” he said, holding up a finger, “is that Slecra-Madrellos is a telepathic planet. The Myrixians don’t have developed voice boxes. Talking or speech of any kind is actually considered disrespectful.” 4

Pidge frowned. “Sooo…how do we communicate?”

Coran blinked. “Well—“

“Oh! We can just use those headsets like when we were doing that mind-meldy thing,” Lance interrupted. “Remember, back when we were first trying to form Voltron?”

“Unfortunately, due to the planet's abundance of cold ammonia volcanoes, you all will have to wear your helmets when off-ship,” Coran explained. “You can’t wear the helmets and the headsets at the same time, I’m afraid.”

“It’s not that humans aren’t capable of telepathy, but your species hasn’t yet learned how to access those higher brain functions,” said Allura. “But not to worry; it is quite common. The Myrixians understand that and have developed certain measures for dealing with non-psychic beings.”

“But aren’t our bonds with our lions kinda psychic?” Hunk asked at the same time Keith said, “Can they hear our thoughts?”

“Your connections with your lions do use low-level telepathy,” Allura agreed, nodding at them. “However when you do so, you don’t have control of your brainwaves, which can be distracting to beings with finely-tuned telepathy. The Myrixians will be able to filter you out as background noise, but they might pick up on strong emotions.”

Shiro nodded. “So basically don’t talk, be calm, and we’ll be okay.”

“That might be difficult for _some_ people,” said Keith, glancing sideways at Lance, who uttered a small “Hey!” and crossed his arms.

“I think I’m starting to like this trip,” Pidge said, grinning.

 

 

 

Okay, maybe she had spoken too soon. By the time they landed, Pidge had never felt so disgusting.

And yes, this was more disgusting than the time Hunk tried to deep-fry space goo, or even Coran’s Slipperies. Pidge not only felt gross, but she hurt in a way that was deeply unpleasant. There wasn’t really room in the suit to pack extra cotton balls, so she managed to sneak a baggie of them onto her lion for safekeeping. Green had been sympathetic.

Slecra-Madrellos was almost enough to distract Pidge from her troubles. The planet was…fluffy, in every sense. She tried to joke it was like a scene from _The Lorax,_ but everyone save Hunk (and Keith, weirdly enough) gave her a funny look. Besides, Pidge doubted any Dr. Seuss landscape had odd gravity patches in the forests that made the trees grow sideways, or fields of crops stretching for miles behind walls of blue rock. She could see the ammonia volcanoes in the distance, their white, tooth-like points juxtaposed against the soft valleys below.

The Myrixians did in fact have comfy chairs, to Pidge's delight.5 Allura and Coran greeted the ambassadors with an odd bow that Lance later referred to as a Yoga Curtsy, which the Myrixians returned with a similar Yoga Curtsy. They led them into a room with an impossibly high ceiling, hundreds of anglerfish-like bulbs pulsing with blue phosphorescent light dangling above them. It was quiet in a way that reminded Pidge of being in the mountains. The only sound, she realized, was the wind outside and the echoes of their footfalls on polished glass.

Coran and Allura were explaining things to the Council as they walked, gesticulating silently between alternating periods of complete stillness. Pidge tried to focus as hard as she could, but there was nothing. The Myrixians seemed to be listening intently, however, giving nods or occasional head tilts. They were a semi-humanoid species, albeit with disproportionately large heads and no mouths.

“But where does the food go in? Osmosis?” Hunk whispered, like he was contemplating the meaning of life (which in a way, he was). Pidge elbowed him because she was already queasy enough as it was without having to imagine alternate forms of nutrient absorption.

When Coran and Allura had finished, a Myrixian walked over and handed each of the Paladins a tablet. Their eyes rested on Pidge curiously, and Pidge felt her gut do a little flop. Did they…? No, Pidge decided, but just to be safe she shoved an image of her dog to the front of her mind. It was probably her imagination that the Myrixian seemed to smile (they had no _mouth,_ for crying out loud).

Pidge nodded to Allura and then to her tablet, since she knew translators did not apply to written language, and Alteans could not read English. The Myrixian seemed to understand and pointed to a little magnifying glass at the top of the screen. _Greetings,_ Pidge typed, then placed her finger on the magnifying glass. She jumped when an actual magnifying glass sprung up from the tablet and hovered over the text. Peering through the glass, Pidge observed the word she had typed, now in the distinctive swirls of Altean script. She grinned and presented her tablet to Allura and Coran.

Coran popped out his own magnifying glass and swiveled his screen towards her.

 _Greetings, Number Five,_ it said in English.

 _Visual translators,_ Pidge typed. _Cool._

 _The Myrixians have invited us to dinner,_ Allura told them. _We shall honor their request and join them in one varga._

With his tongue poking out between his teeth, Hunk typed out a happy emoji.

 

 

 

The dining area reminded Pidge of King Arthur, if only because the table was round rather than rectangular. Unlike the Council room it was small and intimate, the chairs plush and somehow supple beneath their armor. Shiro was inspecting the lack of utensils at the table while Hunk was staring at the thin, flat plates and twiddling his fingers. Keith and Lance were typing furiously on their tablets, paying little heed to anything around them.

Pidge sat down next to Shiro and gave him a raised eyebrow.

 _They’re arguing about whether Kerberos was the fourth or fifth official moon mission,_ Shiro explained, rolling his eyes fondly.

 _It’s the fitfh,_ Lance typed out. Apparently, Myrixian tablets did not have Earth English auto-correct installed on them. _We were tested on all the moon mission spacecrafts: Ghost Dog, Anthracite, Strangelove, and Logos._

 _Logos was hit with an asteroid before it got to Tethys,_ Keith argued. 6 _So technically it doesn’t count as a completed mission._

 _Why are you arguing about this again?_ Hunk tapped out.

 _Kerberos was never completed, and we still include it,_ Lance reminded them. _So Logos should count as well._

 _Kerberos_ was _completed,_ Keith replied. _Unlike Logos, that ship landed at its destination._

_??!On what planet does that count as a completed mission??_

Keith smirked. _Well actually it was a moon, Lance._

_WHY YOU—_

The Myrixians chose that moment to drum their fingers against the table to get everyone’s attention. Lance and Keith closed their tablets but kept their eyes narrowed at each other, which earned them a warning nudge from Shiro. It was a talent of Shiro's, that he could literally use every bone in his body to convey a message without actually saying anything. His eyebrows were drawn together, lips pursed, chin tucked in. _Behave,_ this look said.

Servers from the kitchens approached the table and began pouring foods of various colors onto the long plates. Despite the bright, cheerful look of the food, everything was either liquefied or semi-liquefied. Pidge swallowed and looked around. This posed an interesting dilemma. How do you dine with one species that had no mouths, and the other that required air filtration helmets? 7

The answer was apparently tubes that extended from the plates to under their suits' helmets. It was kind of like sucking food goo through a straw. Pidge wrinkled her nose and wondered if any of the others drew the same association with hospital feeding as she had (later, Lance would suggest soda hats, so apparently not). Allura and Coran were the only ones who had actual silverware: small ladles with crystal embroideries on them.

As Pidge observed, the Myrixians placed their palms directly into the food. They appeared to be absorbing it through their skin.

 _Looks like you were right, sort of,_ she typed to Hunk. She had initially suspected that they photosynthesized, like the Olkari, but this sort of worked too.

Shiro caught Pidge’s eye and glanced meaningfully at her plate. Pidge didn’t need a tablet to get the message.

 _I’m not that hungry,_ she admitted, not knowing if it was rude to type at the table or not. Shiro sucked on his tube disapprovingly.

One of the Myrixians noticed their exchange and tilted their head towards the nearest plate. _Please do not hesitate,_ they said. _This meal has been cultivated from one of our finest cemetery farms._

Hunk and Lance shared a quizzical glance. Allura and Coran also shared a glance, theirs being decidedly more guilty.

Keith frowned. _Cemetery farms?_

 _Slecra-Madrellos cremate their dead,_ Coran told them. He was fiddling with his napkin, but Pidge got the sense it was more of an awkwardness at _their_ expense than his own. Which was never good. _The ashes are then deposited into the soil as fertilizer to aid vegetable growth. Saying goes, the finer the Myrixian, the more nutritious the produce._

Lance made a little choking gulp. _We’re eating dead people???_ Even Hunk looked a little ill. Well, that explained all the fields they saw.

_I mean, we are honored to feast on your dearly dep—_

_What Lance means,_ Shiro typed, before Lance could get out anything more (and he must have been using his prosthetic hand to type because no regular human could have a WPM that fast), _is thank you all for the wonderful food._

The head Myrixian looked amused. 

By the time their meal concluded, Pidge wanted to melt into the floor. She knew she should be displaying decorum and poise and whatnot, but it was kind of hard when she felt like a giant, steaming pile of Klanmüirl droppings.

Next to her, Shiro gave one of his Are You Sure You’re Alright eyebrow arches (which Pidge could now distinguish from his Dealing With Teenage Hormones eyebrow arches) when it became clear that Pidge had only smushed her food to one side of the plate to make it look like she had eaten—rather, drunk—more than she had.

 _I’m just tired, Shiro,_ Pidge typed on her tablet, grimacing and wishing that Shiro would stop bothering her _._ And she wasn't exactly lying. Slecra-Madrellos had thirty-hour days, for Weblum’s sake. Shiro shrugged and looked away, unconvinced. Pidge curled her arms around her abdomen and counted the ticks until she could go back to her room.

 

 

 

The morning was not much better. 8

The glory of Altean cotton balls could only last so long, and Slecra-Madrellos had little to offer in terms of first aid. Pidge assumed that when you lived on a planet with no misunderstandings, there wasn’t much need for battle.

She tended not to think too hard about gender. When you got down to the nitty gritty, nobody outside of their solar system took it very seriously anyway. Heck, they’d been to planets with multiple sexes, shifting sexes, or in some cases no sex at all. 9 Posing as a boy at the Garrison had been ridiculously easy, and to be frank Pidge didn't care what the rest of the universe thought the Green Paladin was.

So it was safe to say Pidge had never before cursed her second X chromosome until now. She rummaged around her bathroom cabinet again, hoping to find some sort of painkiller. Everything was written in Altean, and Pidge observed that even with the Myrixian translating glass she didn’t know half of what sat on her shelf. Seriously. Pidge blew some hair from her face with her bottom lip. Her medicine cabinet had everything from Nunvil extract to “Yupiran fungal crème,” whatever the quiznak that was, but no Aspirin?

She furiously wadded up some toilet paper and shoved it down her pants, not sure what she was furious at but knowing that she was currently not a happy camper. Cramps, she was discovering, were a _bitch._ At least they got to sleep in their own bedrooms last night. 10 Pidge hated sleeping in her helmet. 

There were a couple of squeaks by her waist, and Pidge looked down to see some of the mice curled up at the foot of her bed. Ugh, she was jealous.

“This is such a pain,” Pidge told them. The mice twitched their noses sympathetically.

“No, that’s not all,” admitted Pidge. Allura was the only one who could understand the mice, but Pidge pretended like she could anyway. “It’s just…this means I’m growing up. My hair is shorter, I have muscles now, I’m sweating more than ever,” Pidge broke off with a swallow. “And what if I’m… _older,_ by the time I find my family?”

One of the nimbler mice jumped onto her shoulder and nuzzled her collar with a small squeak. Pidge smiled faintly.

“Carpe diem, you say? YOLO? Walkliya? 11 I guess you’re right.”

Today was their official galactic registration with the Myrixian Council, so Pidge worked out the crick in her neck, jammed on her helmet, and trudged down the too-quiet corridors to join the others in the gathering room.

The process for license renewal and registration was mostly universal. They each had to fill out paperwork outlining their status, duties, and roles pertaining to the Castle of Lions. The paper, of course, was 3D and digitized. Everybody was required to sign their forms with a handprint.

There was a weight to the whole thing, Pidge realized. Yes, they’d hopped into a flying lion and accidentally sped halfway across the universe to fight a trans-galactic dictator, but there was always that tickle, that tease, that _possibility_ of being able to go home that had never quite left any of them (except maybe Keith). Verifying their Paladin status in writing made it more real, somehow. That they may not ever be able to go home.

Something must have shown on her face, because one of the Myrixians had drifted over to Pidge and was extending their tablet to her.

_Only when the mouth is closed can the mind speak, young one._

Pidge peered at the text. What was that supposed to mean?

They were interrupted by Lance raising a tentative hand. _Can I be excused?_ His tablet read.

 _What’s wrong, Lance?_ Allura wrote.

Lance squirmed in his fluffy chair. _I dunno,_ he replied. _I just have this really bad stomachache or something. It hurts. Like, a lot._

It was clear just from looking that Lance was not faking this time. His lips were drawn together tightly and sweat dotted his brow beneath his helmet. In fact, he looked a great deal like Pidge felt at the moment. She was kind of glad speaking was prohibited; Pidge was pretty sure if she opened her mouth right now either a scream or last night’s food goo was going to come out.

 _Permission to inspect our Blue Paladin and return shortly, Defalcora-X?_ Coran asked the head Myrixian, typing out of courtesy to the Paladins. The Myrixian gave an affirmative bow and Coran helped Lance to his feet, frowning mildly. Lance, pulling in labored breaths between clenched teeth, let Coran walk him out of the meeting room and presumably back to the cryo-pods.

Keith and Hunk shared a look once they had left. _Maybe he ate too many dead people,_ typed Keith, but Hunk only shrugged.

 _We hope your Paladin will be well,_ Defalcora-X told them. _Let us finish your new registry quickly so that you may attend to him._

 

 

 

“So there’s nothing wrong with him.”

“There was totally something wrong with me.”

Coran twisted the ends of his mustache; a habit he had when something was particularly vexing him. “I for one am baffled,” he said. “Blood sugar is a little low, but other than that Number Three is in perfect health!” 12

They were back in the healing chambers of their own castle, helmet-less and free to talk as they pleased. Or, in Keith and Lance’s case, resume their argument on Logos qualifying as a moon mission. It was a breath of fresh air (literally) to be able to remove her helmet, though in all honesty Pidge would not have minded the silence of the Council room. The nausea had seamlessly transformed into a nails-on-the-chalkboard headache, making her quietly want to murder everything. And then die. Not necessarily in that order.  

“I don’t get it,” Lance said. “All of a sudden I felt like I was going to keel over, and now it’s like it never happened.” He poked his stomach tentatively.

Hunk scratched his chin. “Maybe it was the fact that we ate dead people for dinner last night?”

Shiro sighed.

“We all ate the same dinner,” said Keith, rubbing his temple.

“Well maybe I don’t have a Galra stomach,” Lance quipped.

Keith blanched. “I don’t—“

“You know, for once I’d just like some arroz blanco y frijoles negros,” moaned Lance.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Keithy-boy, have I mentioned before your sad, severe depravity of Latino food? I swear, when we get back to Earth I am going to shove some tostones down your throat.”

Keith crossed his arms, smirking. “I’d like to see you try.”

Amidst their twaddle, Pidge turned to Coran and asked, “So are we just supposed to wait around until they’re done?”

Coran nodded. “After the spot inspection of the castle to make sure there’s nothing illegal on board, we should be all set,” he said. “Allura and the Council are on the lower levels now, but we'll likely be finished in about two vargas.” Considering how massive the Castle of Lions actually was, Pidge estimated it would be more like three.

“Hey Coran, why can't we have clones aboard spacecraft?” asked Hunk, remembering something he had read earlier in their paperwork.

“I saw that too,” Pidge said, momentarily distracted. “Is that some sort of policy you guys have?”

“We use Artificial Intelligence instead of clones,” replied Coran. He was met with blank stares. “It’s—it’s one of the fundamental rules. Do humans not take recreational genetics in their educational institutes?”

Hunk swallowed. “Um…no?”

“Clones use up resources,” Coran said. “Plus,” he waved a hand, “they don’t generate quintessence naturally, so people used to be able to sneak clone spies and soldiers onto enemy bases undetected quite easily.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. D’you think Kaltenecker is considered illegal?” wondered Hunk.

Coran opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Keith and Lance arguing.

“¿Cómo es eso posible? Tendrías que ser un vagabundo. ¿No tenías televisión en tu man-shack del desierto?”

“¡Cállate! ¡No era un jodido ‘man-shack’!”

“Oh _lo siento._ ¿Preferirías el Shire?” 13

Hunk, Shiro, and Pidge were staring at them, open-mouthed. “Uh, guys…” Shiro started, shaking his head.

“Since when does Keith speak Spanish?” Pidge asked him.

“He doesn’t,” replied Shiro, frowning. They all turned to Coran, since he was usually the first to explain when anything weird happened. Coran looked delighted.

“But this is fascinating!” he exclaimed. His ears twitched in excitement and he waved to get Lance and Keith’s attention. “Paladins!”

They paused (Keith somewhere in the middle of insulting Lance’s manhood) out of curiosity because Coran sounded unusually thrilled about their arguing. Pidge and her throbbing headache breathed a sigh of relief.

“The telepathic field of Slecra-Madrellos appears to be affecting you,” Coran announced happily.

Lance blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You were speaking Spanish,” Hunk said. He looked at Keith. “Both of you. And the castle wasn’t translating it.”

“I don’t speak Spanish,” said Keith, frowning.

Hunk shrugged. “Hate to break it to you, buddy.”

“Arguing with Lance must have strengthened the mental connection between you two,” Shiro mused. “This could be excellent for team bonding.”

Pidge swallowed. “So we can pick up stuff from each other now?” she asked Coran. She really didn’t want the others knowing she was on her period. Her first period.

Coran wrapped one end of his mustache around his finger. “It appears so,” he remarked. “The telepathic strength of the planet is strong enough to create psychic bleeds even in non-psychic life forms. Though I expect the effects will fade once we leave Slecra-Madrellos. Where are you going, Number Five?”

“I gotta do some…stuff,” Pidge supplied. Quiznak, could that have been any lamer? “I’ve been wanting to modify the Altean language program so it doesn’t actually try to eat you.” Okay, that was a little better. It was true, sort of. Just another one of her projects that she’d never gotten around to. Because you know, war and all.

“Oo, do you need a hand? If it's anything like that Galra translation algorithm I made, we could probably get that done. Especially if we get all mind-meldy.”

“Not right now, Hunk,” replied Pidge, trying not to snap. But quiznak, she _hurt._ “I just need some ‘me’ time, okay?”

 

 

 

Following his bilingual argument with Lance, Keith found himself at the training deck, robot set on a level easy enough that he could comfortably cool down.

He’d been feeling strangely irritable all day. There was a mild headache settled between his eyes, and something in particular was bothering him. There were things about him that Keith had always assumed normal, until that whole issue with the Blade of Marmora and him coming out of the genetics closet. Night vision, for one. Sensing quintessence, another. Apparently those weren’t things normal people had.

Smell happened to be another.

Since yesterday, there had been the faintest scent of blood in the air. Tangy, metallic. Keith doubted the others could smell it, and he didn’t want to bring it up because nobody _looked_ wounded.

Still, the smell persisted. It was possible that someone on the team was sporting an injury from their last mission and either didn’t know about it, or wasn't telling anyone about it. That would certainly explain the moodiness, which Keith was almost certain was not his.

“End simulation,” he sighed, kneading his forehead again with a knuckle and pushing hair out of his eyes. Time to get to the bottom of this. As the robot yielded and disappeared into the floor, Keith closed his eyes and stood stock still. _Patience yields focus._ He let his hands drop to his sides and concentrated on his breathing in an attempt to pinpoint the scent and its possible origins.

It was blood alright, but it was…different, somehow. Worse, he couldn't tell who it was from. Keith inhaled, exhaled. He tried not to feel like a tracking dog as he followed the scent out of the training deck, down the east hall, past the navigation room and eventually into the area of the castle where their rooms were.

He turned a corner and found himself outside of…Pidge’s quarters. Okay, he hadn’t been expecting that. Pidge was careful with herself and rarely got hurt, so it was a bit worrying that Keith's nose had led him here. Keith knocked on her door. “It’s Keith,” he said. He was grateful when he heard Pidge’s muffled “Yeah,” from the other side and tapped the glowing panel to let himself in.

She was in her bed for once, laptop balanced on her knees and cables strewn about her feet. 14 “What’s up?” she asked, still typing. Keith thought she looked tired.

“Are you injured?”

Pidge’s head snapped up. “What?” she said. “No, why?”

“This is going to sound weird,” Keith said, rubbing the back of his head, “but I sort of, uh, have a good sense of smell, and—”

“Is that from being part Galra?”

Keith shrugged. “Is everything alright?” he asked in lieu of answering.

Pidge sighed. “I’m fine,” she told him, adjusting her glasses. “I don’t know why you’d think I was—“she froze.

Okay, now Keith knew there was definitely something up. “Pidge, you’d say if something was up, right?”

Pidge slowly lowered her hand from her face. “I’m fine,” she said again, her voice small and tight. She did not _appear_ injured or bleeding, which was confusing because Keith's Galra Spidey Sense was bouncing off every available surface right now. In fact, if Keith knew any better, he’d say Pidge looked almost…embarrassed.

“Then why do I smell…?” Keith may not have been the most emotionally intelligent boy, but he was not stupid. It took him a minute before everything pieced together with a near-audible click. _“Oh.”_ He felt the tips of his ears turn pink, and he cleared his throat. “I, uh—“

“Get out of my room,” Pidge groaned, burying her face in her pillow, mortified.

“It’s, I mean—“Keith cleared his throat again—“do you…need anything?”

Pidge raised her head wearily. “I need you to leave me alone,” she said flatly. “And don’t tell anyone, or I swear I’ll knock you out, stick you in one of those storage tanks we put Sendak in, and upload every humiliating memory you’ve ever had.”

Keith fumbled for the door switch, missing twice before he got it open. He knew he was being awkward, but it wasn’t like he had much experience in dealing with, you know. “Right. Um,” he said. “Drink water?”

“Oh my god, _Keith.”_

He got out of there faster than Slav from a rain puddle, because he didn’t want to find out if Pidge was actually capable of putting him in an Altean memory chamber. Unlike Lance, Pidge was not the type to make empty threats. Tiny and unassuming as she was, with the way she’d been glaring at him, Keith did not doubt for a second that she could probably do exactly what she said.

Now a safe distance from Pidge, Keith wandered around the castle for a bit until he located Shiro in the kitchen. Hunk and Lance were huddled over a pan, trying to season an omelet with some dried vegetables they had picked up from Folarra. Shiro was leaning against the counter, reading something on a tablet.

Keith bit his lip. Ideally, he was hoping to catch Shiro alone for this, but maybe it was a good thing the others were there. He could certainly use the extra protection if Pidge decided later she wanted to watch his third grade Art Class Accident.

Lance was wiping his mouth with a grimace. “Keith, tell Hunk that Arusian coconut juice tastes nothing like coconut milk,” he said.

Shiro glanced up from whatever he was reading. “They’re not exactly coconuts,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, because coconuts don’t have spikes and taste like onions,” grumbled Lance.

“We know you can’t have dairy, so we’re trying to make the equivalent of nut milk,” Hunk supplied.

“How thoughtful,” Keith said dryly.

Hunk poked the omelet with his spatula. “Are you hungry? You can eat Vekrelsta eggs, right?” 15

Keith raised an eyebrow in an incredibly Shiro-like gesture.

Shiro powered down his tablet and set it on the counter beside him. “Is everything okay, Keith?” he asked.

“So,” Keith began, then stopped when he realized he had no idea how to go about this.

Shiro smiled. “I don’t need to be a psychic to tell that something’s bothering you. What’s up?”

Keith set his jaw. He had no idea how to go about this, but one of his teammates was hurting. “It’s, uh, Pidge,” he said.

“Is she okay?” asked Lance.

Ugh, why did Keith have to be the one to do this? “She has, well—“Keith coughed. “That…time?”

The others blinked at him. Surprisingly, Lance was the first one to get it.

“Oohhh. Gotcha, gotcha.”

Hunk looked worried. “What is it? What time?”

Lance batted his eyes. “Pidge has her _Lady Time.”_

“You mean—oh! Okay, I did _not_ need to hear that.”

“I think she’s in pain,” Keith said, looking at Shiro.

“Wait,” Lance frowned, “is _that_ why my stomach was hurting this morning?” He paled. “Quiznak.”

“Dude, you were practically ready to curl up on the floor—“Hunk broke off. “Are periods really that painful?”

“Like I said, quiznak.”

“Shouldn’t she talk to Allura about this?” Shiro asked. “I mean,” he rubbed the scar tissue on his nose awkwardly, “Allura would be better equipped to help, I think.”

“Maybe she’s embarrassed,” Hunk said.

Lance shook his head. “If Pidge hasn’t gone to Allura it means she doesn’t want to bother us with this no matter how much pain she’s in. It’s so Pidge.” With an impish grin, he announced, “What she needs, my friends, is a little TLC.”

“Wow Lance, I thought you’d be all, ‘EW!’ and ‘gross!’ like, one of those guys who screams at the sight of tampons.”

Grin widening, Lance elbowed Hunk. “Did you forget that I have sisters? Just call me Mister Menstruation.”

“I’d rather not, if that’s okay?”

“Because we wouldn’t want you to be _uncomfortable_ ,” said Lance, nudging Hunk’s side with the sharp point of his elbow again. “Y’know. Like Pidge is now?”

“Alright, so how do we help?” Shiro asked. Keith never thought he’d see the day when Shiro defected to _Lance_ for orders. Then again, he could use a good laugh at seeing all of Lance’s cringe-worthy memories in an Altean pod.

“Hunk, you remember that soup you made when Shiro got space chicken pox?”

“You mean the one with Nunvil in it that you spit out in my face?”

Lance’s eye twitched. “I already told you that was an accident! Anyway,” he said, “do you think you can make it again?”

“Sure,” Hunk replied. “I just need some cinnamon, and some more of that Altean root extract…” He began rummaging through the drawers, ticking off the ingredients aloud under his breath. Keith bit back a smile. Once Hunk got into Cooking Mode, there was little that could stop him. The omelet he had been making sat forgotten on the stove, smoking faintly.

“Now Shiro—“

“Where does Coran keep the thermal packs?” Shiro asked them, before Lance could finish.

“How did you know I was going to ask you to get the thermal packs?” Lance said, eyes wide.

“We’re on a psychic planet,” Keith reminded him.

“Oh, right. That’s actually pretty cool.”

For once, Keith had to agree.

 

 

 

Pidge vowed never to go on WebMD again for as long as she lived. Even researching something as simple as menstruation had left her terrified. Especially since her Altean search engine was ten thousand years out of date (but on the bright side there was tons of cool information, like did you know that there was a species on Kilfrakka where regurgitating the bones of your meals intact was considered an art form and they regularly held competitions for it?).

Fed up (and slightly scarred), Pidge had switched to working on the Altean language course. She’d finally mastered the pronunciation of “Kzrly squilk’l,” but she was still only at level B and the virtual programming was stumping her since Pidge suspected that it was slightly sentient—

There was a knock on her door.

“What,” she practically growled.

The door slid open with a hiss to reveal the other four Paladins. Pidge sat up, glasses flashing dangerously.

“You told them?”

“Well, yes and no?” Lance said, before Keith could flounder for a reply. “Sure Keith sometimes has a big mouth, but there’s also that whole ‘psychic bleed’…thingy.” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis.

“We sensed that you were hurting—“Shiro began.

“—some more intensely than others—”Lance added. “You're giving out some serious 'ouch' vibes there, Pidge.”

Pidge nearly dropped her laptop. “Was that why you—oh my god Lance, I am so sorry.” She put her head in her hands because she was such an _idiot_ and should have taken into account that here her pain could be someone else's, too.

“We wanted to help,” finished Shiro. “I mean, I can’t say I know a lot about what you’re going through, but—“

“Wait,” Hunk blurted out, “why not? We can know _exactly_ what Pidge is going through. Telepathic planet, remember?”

Shiro looked uncharacteristically irritable. “That’s where I was going, if you’d let me finish.”

Lance chuckled. “Uh-oh, looks like Shiro’s getting PMS-y,” he exclaimed. “Kind of reminds me of Keith. All the time.”

“Watch it, Lance.” Keith turned to Shiro. “So how do we do this?”

Pidge slumped her shoulders and sighed. “If you guys want periods so badly, be my guest,” she said. “Just so you know, you’re going to hate it.”

“The things we do for love, Pidge-Pidge. Now move over.” Lance scooted into the bed with Pidge, forcing her to readjust her back against the wall. Hunk plopped himself at the foot of her bed and set the pot he had been carrying down next to him. Keith sat on the floor. Shiro leaned against the wall beside them with his knees drawn up.

“I brought soup,” said Hunk.

Pidge leaned over and sniffed the pot. “Isn't this that Nunvil one that Lance—“

“—spit in his face, I _know,_ and for the last time, I’m _sorry,”_ Lance protested, rolling his eyes. 

“Well at this point, anything beats Myrixian corpse juice,” Pidge admitted. “And it does smell good.”

“I’m thinking we do some meditating, see if we can open our minds a little,” said Shiro, answering Keith’s previous question. “Similar to how we’re connected when we form Voltron. I know we can’t read thoughts, but just being receptive might help.”

“Yeah, I can already tell that Hunk’s hungry,” joked Lance.

“Hunk’s always hungry,” Keith said.

“Pidge, focus on sending us your feelings.”

“Shiro—“

“You won’t hurt us, I promise.”

 _The last time we tried this, it didn’t go so well,_ Pidge remembered. Her mind started to drift back to that second day in space, when they’d all been scared and giant messes and _new,_ and she wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed when all of a sudden Pidge felt a wave of affection wash over her.

_Shiro?_

No, not just Shiro. Pidge closed her eyes and concentrated. They had all fallen silent by this point, creating a kind of easy quiet in her room, and Pidge thought again of that Myrixian who had come over to her yesterday.

_Only when the mouth is closed can the mind speak, young one._

_I think I get it now,_ Pidge thought, and _pushed._

“Woah,” Hunk whispered. The four sitting beside him seemed much closer now. It was like their minds were physically _touching._ He grinned. They were quiznaking psychic!  

Pidge felt his excitement. Her mind was completely open, like a crumpled paper unfolded. She sent them the heavy, throbbing ache of cramps, the sting of a headache. There were no words; only feelings, and the murmured blur of an image here or there. Lance made a small noise of discomfort. Pidge emanated a sensation of general distress, reaching, like a wave of sticky warm water on a hot day.

There was a tendril of inquiry, threading its way into her thoughts. From somebody—Keith, maybe. They knew that wasn’t all.

Pidge explained that she was upset not because she was officially a woman now, but because with it brought the realization that her family would never get to see her grow up. Before she knew it she’d be this other person, this soldier, this _adult._ Her family knew Katie, but they had never met Pidge. By the time she found them, would Dad and Matt even recognize her?

Shiro was sending out soft, steady washes of pride, admiration. He was telling her that she should not be ashamed of who she was becoming. Pidge got an image—well, it wasn’t exactly an image; more an _idea_ of an image—of herself, as Shiro saw her. Of somebody amazing.

Keith sent an image of himself being hugged by Allura on the cargo deck. Which was more of a memory, the only difference being that here Keith’s skin was a light shade of violet and he had claws. Pidge understood the message: acceptance, comfort, relief. It had been one of Keith’s happiest moments. Something in Pidge’s chest twinged at that.

Hunk, oddly, was thinking about a whitish scar on his wrist that he had gotten from one of the Galra Druids. The healing pods had not quite been able to fix it. Pidge caught the swirling of his other thoughts: how Hunk had taken to wearing his hair a little shorter, how he now had a bracelet from Shay made out of Balmeran Qasi stones. 16 Physically, Hunk was different too. 

From Lance, it sort of felt like a brain-hug. Which was weird. But in a really, really nice way.

And the thing was, Katie had always been Pidge. Her family will be proud. She forgot sometimes that the universe changes, grows. Stars implode and nebulae explode every second. As an extension of the universe, they are the same. The five of them would all be different, by the end of this.

And that did not have to be a scary thing.

“Um,” Lance said quietly, breaking the silence. He cleared his throat. “Pidge, do ya mind if I take one of these thermal packs?”

“Oh me too,” said Hunk. “No offense, but I’m _really_ glad I’m a dude.”

“I warned you,” Pidge smirked.

“We brought a bunch,” Keith said. “Here.”

“You are still in so much trouble,” Pidge said, but she was smiling as she took a pack from Keith. It was warm, and felt wonderful draped over her stomach. She tried not to laugh at the sight of Hunk and Lance clutching heating pads to their lower halves.

“Thanks, guys,” she said. “I—“she swallowed—“I feel better. Really.”

“Glad we could help,” Shiro replied comfortably. “Later, we can find supplies for you and see if there is something to treat the pain.”

Pidge sighed. “You think I should tell Allura.”

Shiro shrugged. “It can’t hurt. She and Coran gave me some really great tips for maintaining my prosthetic a few months ago. They helped a lot.”

“Fine,” Pidge conceded. Plus, it might be fun to watch the princess squirm a little. 17 “Hey Hunk,” she said, “can we have some of that soup now?”

Hunk set aside his thermal pack and reached for the pot. “As long as none of you make a mess—“he shot a look at Lance—“be my guest.”

“You better not, this is my bed.” Pidge turned to Keith. “Also, because I can sense you thinking about it and you two arguing any more is pointless,” she declared, “Logos technically counted as a moon mission. Our Garrison textbooks were updated after you dropped out.”

“Ha!” gloated Lance. Keith glowered, but his expression softened as soon as he tasted the soup.

The soup was amazing.

“You really outdid yourself this time, Hunk,” Shiro said, and they could tell he meant it. Pidge concurred. She was seriously considering dumping a pot of this on the Galra, because this was the kind of soup that ended wars. Hunk had perfected the proportions of Nunvil since the last time (thankfully), and it was just the thing to loosen Pidge’s muscles.

“I’m not usually picky, but I’d take this over that Myrixian dinner any day,” Keith exclaimed. It was his way of complimenting Hunk, and Hunk beamed.

“Yeah, I mean it tasted alright, but the whole concept was just nasty,” said Lance, with a shudder.

“Speaking of nasty, do you remember when we went to Cauxar and they served us live tube worms?” Pidge asked.

Hunk made a face. “In my opinion, you shouldn’t have to chase your dinner across the table. Ever.”

“I seem to remember that being an important part of the ceremony,” said Shiro, looking thoughtful, yet slightly disgusted at the same time.  

Pidge licked her spoon. “But yeah, Hunk, this is great.”

“だろう?” Hunk said, around a mouthful of soup. He looked up once he realized that everyone was staring at him. “What?” 18

“Want me to translate?” Shiro said, amused.

“Oh geez, was I doing that thing that Keith was earlier?”

“Yeah,” the others answered, only it happened to come out in about three different languages.

The five Paladins all gaped at each other for a moment, then began to laugh.

 

 

 

By the setting of the white sun, the Castle of Lions had been declared a fully registered, legal spacecraft. Coran showed them all the shiny new license chip, which he deposited in a port by the main console. They had to return their translation tablets, but the Myrixians let Hunk copy a portion of the software (for culinary reasons, he claimed).

They even got to keep Kaltenecker.

And Pidge, despite the five kinds of gross going on with her body, felt happier than she had in several quintants. She curled up in her oversized control chair, which now sported a new, fluffy Myrixian pillow, and motioned for Hunk to come on over so she could show him the language program she was working on.

“You five seem close,” Allura remarked, as they were leaving the planet.

“What do you mean?” Lance asked.

Allura smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “I don’t know,” she said, “it just feels like you are more in sync with each other than before.”

“Looks like you all had telepathic shenanigans while we were inspecting the ship,” Coran said, winking. Telepathic shenanigans was a phrase Pidge never thought she’d hear spoken in a sentence, but it was strangely accurate. Pidge looked to the other Paladins. She couldn’t feel their minds anymore, but nonetheless she knew they were there, right beside her own.

“That is wonderful!” Allura exclaimed. “Tell me, did you learn anything?”

“A few things,” Shiro answered, shrugging. He was standing next to Pidge’s chair, so he reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder. It was his left hand, and it felt warm.

“Yeah, Hunk spoke Japanese,” Lance said. “And we figured out why my stomach was hurting.”

Allura's eyes widened. “Goodness! Are you alright now, Lance?” Beside her, Keith snorted. He tried valiantly to cover it up with a cough, unsuccessful.

 _“I’m_ fine,” Lance replied, shooting a glare at Keith. It lacked any real fire, though, and Lance decided his efforts would be better spent wiggling his eyebrows at Pidge. Allura looked confused despite her vast knowledge of Yoga Curtsies and nonverbal cues.

Pidge, on the other hand, got Lance's message loud and clear. Well, it was now or never. She shared a toothy grin with the others. This could actually be hilarious.

“Hey, Allura,” Pidge said, “I have something _fascinating_ to tell you about human females.”

 

 

End.

 

 

* * *

 

1  Altean toilets had five flushers, which Pidge considered very efficient, though she did not really know—or care to know— _why._

2  Coran had an annoying habit of placing the Paladins' intercom speakers in various places around the castle. Sometimes he liked to put them in the bathrooms, or the kitchen cabinets. “It keeps you on your toes. You never know where my voice is going to pop up,” he claimed, when they asked him about it. Keith has a theory that it's actually the mice who are doing it, however, since they have an odd penchant for taking Coran's things. That morning, the announcement appeared to have been coming from Pidge's sock drawer.

3  From what they gathered, most civilizations had their own _Lord of the Rings_ in some form or another. According to Allura and Coran, Altea's most famous high-fantasy was titled 'The Caves of Taphaxia' and involved flying chuupers and evil quintessence vampires.

4  Later, Coran would tell them the famed story of Zin, a proud, lazy alien who talked back to the Council. Word has it, Zin is still somewhere on Slecra-Madrellos, uploaded into the cloud to complete virtual paperwork for all eternity. The Paladins were of course skeptical, but after glimpsing a section of the Council's digitized registry database none of them felt the need to test it.

5  Myrixian chairs were made of the same fluffy substance that grew on the trees. It wasn't exactly fur, nor was it any kind of recognizable plant seed. However, it was insanely soft (and hypoallergenic, apparently).

6  The Logos mission to gather samples from the Ithaca Chasma on Saturn's Tethys was one of the biggest failures in Earth's space history, resulting in four dead astronauts and millions of dollars lost among the asteroids that hit the ship.

7  Unlike some select species, Coran and Allura cannot breathe in space. However, their lungs are able to filter out ammonia, so apart from giving them a slight cough if exposed for too long, it is not particularly toxic to Alteans.

8  In addition to thirty-hour days, Slecra-Madrellos only had five-hour nights.

9  The inhabitants of the Evelba star system voluntarily change their gender according to their planets' moon cycles. Binathi, the largest planet in this system, has five moons. According to myth, three of them are considered feminine and two masculine, so the Binathi assume the gender of whichever moon is closer in orbit on a given month, believing it brings them closer to the cosmic deities.

10  Lance had insisted, on the basis of humans needing to brush their teeth.

11  An Altean expression for grabbing the points of one's ears.

12  Coran was rightly horrified when Lance explained the whole concept of appendicitis and vestigial organs to him. The fact that humans had organs that they didn't _use,_ and that those organs could _explode_ at any time made Coran seriously evaluate his previous stance on humans being somewhat wimpy.

13  Lance and Keith are arguing about Keith's desert shack, and how Keith basically lived under a rock because he'd never watched the Food Network.

14  Keith suspected Pidge slept about as much as Shiro did, which was not a lot. Occasionally he would get up early to train or swim and he'd see Pidge slumped over a computer interface, or snoring lightly over an open Altean manual.

15  The Vekreslta was more or less an Arusian version of a platypus, albeit with a Tapir-like trunk and round, fawn-brindled eggs.

16  Hunk had refused the traditional Balmeran tattoo of comradeship on the basis that he hated needles, but the Qasi stones were quite lovely. They were said to improve circulation and prevent motion sickness.

17  Allura tended to be a bit squeamish when it came to human customs, especially concerning mummification, sunburn, and that one time Pidge explained the concept of laser eye surgery. She and Coran were appalled.

18  The Japanese short form of, "I know, right?"

 


End file.
